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OF THE ELVES
Elves are an ancient, fey and rare folk. Some scholars believe that the Elves are immortal, but I believe that it is the
cruel fate of all living things to perish, and even these fey creatures die as time passes. But the Elves do live for a
very long time indeed. Some of their lords have lived for two millennia, though I hazard a guess that the lifespan of the
Elf warrior be until he is slain in battle, which will oft be sooner than his natural death. Can it therefore be any
wonder that the Elf wears upon his face such a sorrowful countenance and speaks much of fate and doom?
Physically Elves are tall, slender and elegant creatures with aesthetically beautiful features. Their flowing hair is
as fine as flax. Their movements are graceful, and their speed is inhuman. To the eyes of a Man, the Elves appear
radiantly beautiful, but the wise should not let appearances fool them, for the Elves are quick to anger and slow to
appease. A mortal Man who might by chance cast his eyes upon an Elf maid would think her to be a goddess and would be
incapable of any thought but her for the rest of the day. The wise do not judge Elves by their divine appearance alone,
but shun these fey and strange creatures, for beneath the beautiful exterior lies an enigmatic and mystic psyche.
The minds of the Elves are every bit as quick and agile as their bodies, but at the same time they are inhuman and
strange, their mentality completely alien to a Man. They can concentrate on a single task with terrifying intensity. An
Elf can quickly master any skill and far surpasses humans in song, writing, magic, alchemy, architecture or any other
fine art. Elves call themselves the First Speakers, and it is true that their gifts of song and speech surpass by far
any of the mannish races.
But such mental discipline comes at a price. Elves can lose track of time and the affairs of the world around them,
foregoing rest and nourishment. Indeed an Elf may lose himself for weeks, staring intently at a beautiful sculpture or
painting, uncaring of the flow of time or events evolving around him. Elves are also aloof, proud, arrogant, and uncaring
of 'lesser' races. In their eyes, Men are little better than Orcs, and more often than once Men and Elves have come
to blows.
The Elves are divided into several peoples and kindreds. The Great Ones, known as the High Elves, inhabit the great
island-continent of Ulthuan which rests in the Great Western Ocean. Their great capital of Lothern in the land of Eataine
is the hub of Elven trade, and the port of the mighty Elven armada. From here their fleet plies the waves to dominate
trade and explore the world.
Finubar the Seafarer is their ruler, and he is the most cosmopolitan of all the Phoenix Kings. He lifted the ancient
bans which decreed that no ship save those of the Elven fleet may ply the seas for three hundred miles around Ulthuan.
The city is as far as any non-Elf can go. Human traders can taste the pleasures of the most wondrous city of the world
(after our beloved Altdorf, that is) and ply their trade in the bazaars and merchant houses of Lothern. But to try to
pass the Emerald Gate is to invite swift and certain death. A ten thousand strong guard keeps vigilance over the city
and the citadel of Glittering Tower, the beacon which guides the Elven craft through the straits of Lothern.
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